The Abby Hallows
by El Chacal
Summary: A retelling of The tale of the three brothers with NCIS characters. It mixes HP themes with NCIS characters so it's a crossover of sorts. Please read and review. Thanks.


**The Abby Hallows**

By: El Chacal

**Rated T**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea for this story. I'm not making any profits with this and I don't claim to own anything. Please don't sue. Thank you.

* * *

There once were three federal agents who were traveling on a winding road at twilight. They came to a long length of pavement, asphalt and gravel known to many as Sciuto Ravine. There were stunt drivers who wouldn't drive through Sciuto Ravine for a large majority of the drivers who drove through it either died from the elements or from the dangerous conditions of the road that showed no mercy.

However, with their combined skills, they somehow managed to weave their way past the potholes, the howling winds, the sleek gravel and sharp rocks while managed to keep the car from hitting the mountain and the surrounding trees or from falling off the cliff.

Upon reaching the end, their path was blocked by a tall figure in the form of a 13ft tall female goth wearing a plaid skirt, white shirt, dark cloak and her hair, which was done up in pigtails, peaked out of the hood covering her head.

It was Death.

She was furious that three mortals had thwarted her best laid trap for claiming fresh victims. Everyone who tried driving through Sciuto Ravine did not survive.

Though Death was angry, she was also devious.

She congratulated them on their skills, saying that each of them earned a prize for having been so daring and savvy in evading her advances.

The first who stood before her was the senior agent, a former homicide cop from Baltimore who still thought he was God's gift to women though he had to confront his age from time to time.

He asked for an infinite, omnipotent charm with the ladies as well as a sex drive and recovery rate greater than any man or beast could ever hope to have.

So Death took a tattoo artist's needle laced with a mix of the most potent aphrodisiac, highly concentrated pheromones and high volumes of weapons grade vitamin B12 and marked the areas above his heart with stars. With these markings, his bed would never again be empty and no woman would be able to deny him.

Death turned to face the second agent. She was a former assassin and Mossad operative. Death knew her exploits for Mossad have sent many souls her way. Yet, in the agent's eyes, there wasn't a cold blooded shark's aggression but rather a weary, hardened look to them.

The second agent asked for something that surprised Death somewhat. She asked for the power to bring a loved one back from beyond the grave.

Without warning or adjustment of the body, Death snatched the Star of David from around the agent's neck and endowed it with the power requested.

As the second agent walked away with her prize, Death turned to the third agent.

A quiet man, he was not arrogant and womanizing as the first. A sensitive and open man, he was not as hardened and secretive as the second. Unlike the other two, he had a better grasp on Death and knew he could not truly trust what was being offered.

So it was he that made the most challenging request of all.

Looking Death right in the eye, he asked for the ability to go forward from Sciuto Ravine to live a long and happy life without Death being able to hunt him.

Thus Death reluctantly shed it's own veils of invisibility, re-stitched, re-sized, re-designed and customized them into a trench coat/fedora hat combo set reminiscent of Humphrey Bogart ala Casablanca, which she them bestowed upon the third agent.

Bowing his head in reverence and humbly giving thanks, he rejoined his fellow agents as they continued on their way.

* * *

The first agent, Anthony DiNozzo, went out to Las Vegas, Chicago, New York, Miami and Los Angeles. All these places claimed to have the hottest women on the planet.

It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Showgirls, call girls, salsa dancers, tango dancers, belly dancers, strippers, waitresses, maids, cleaning ladies, taxi drivers, blackjack dealers, surfer girls, bikini models, lingerie models, big bust entertainers, porn stars, dancers, ballerinas, barristas, bakers, photographers, reporters; he had all those women in every position and method the Kama Sutra ever invented and not one of them ever refused his bed and company.

It got to where he had sex with about three thousand or more women. Thanks to the charms bestowed upon him by Death, he did not feel any fatigue or physical wear and tear.

Then one day, as he lay in the hotel room that he was in, he got a call from the lobby. They said there was someone from the florist who wanted to see him.

He was surprised, thinking the 'florist' didn't have any more women who could handle him.

Moments later, he was having the best sex of his life. Only when he was in the wake of a major climax did the woman speak.

"Hello, Tony."

Before he could say anything to his defense, Jeanne Benoit smiled as the paralyzing sedative worked it's effect on him, rendering him helpless.

Walking to her purse, she took out an ice pick. "This reminds me of Sharon Stone from Basic Instinct." With Tony lying on the bed face up, Jeanne stabbed him right through the ribs and into his heart. "This will serve as a reminder of what you did to me."

The cleaning staff found the body the next morning.

Jeanne Benoit was fished out of the lake in Central Park. They found that her heart had somehow stopped beating and thus she died.

Death had taken the first agent as well as the daughter of Rene Benoit a.k.a. The Frog a.k.a. La Grenouille.

* * *

Ziva David traveled to a town as close to Tel Aviv without being in it. As she was now ex-Mossad, she could not return to her hometown. Yet she was close enough to do what she planned.

Taking the Star of David, Ziva gripped it thrice in her fist.

Lo and behold, to her delight, her sister appeared before her. Talia stood there as the adult she would have grown up to be had she not died in the Hammas bombing that took her life.

Ziva embraced her, happier than she had ever been before in her life. However, Talia was distant, detached and despondent for she did not truly belong amongst the living.

To Ziva's horror, she had to watch as Talia rapidly turned old and ultimately passed away.

Struck with unmeasurable grief and hopelessness, Ziva stuck herself into the ruins of a broken synagogue and surrounded the place with nail bombs, blocks of semtax and C4 the size of cinder blocks, grenades as big as pineapples, pipe bombs and oil drum bombs. All of them were wired to one master detonator.

As a Mossad officer, she knew every type of explosive that they used and the lives they have taken with them. So it was only fit that she would go with the same weapons used by the Mossad.

Kissing the photo of her and Talia one last time, Ziva flipped the switch, praying that she would be pardoned and reunited with Talia on the other side.

In a ball of fire that everyone in Tel Aviv could not ignore, especially by Director Eli David, Death claimed the second agent.

* * *

As for the third agent, Timothy McGee, Death searched for many, many years but could not find him. Death searched on Google, in every MMORPG, in every Armani store, in bookstores and coffee shops. Every search was an absolute failure.

Of all the gifts she could have given, she had to give one that prevented her from claiming a victim.

Years passed and all the Caf-Pows and black roses couldn't shake her frustration of not being able to find McGee.

Then, one day, it happened.

Timothy McGee, having reached a very old age, finally shed the fedora and trench coat in order to pass it on to his nephew, who was the son of his sister, Sarah McGee.

Taking a Caf-Pow in hand, along with a bouquet of black roses and a cute, plush, farting hippo that bore a tag with the name 'Bert' written on it, he went to greet Death as an old friend.

Upon seeing these gifts, Death felt her anger melt as snow in the springtime and a bright smile come to her face.

She embraced him warmly and together they parted the mortal world as equals.

* * *

The End.

* * *

(Ok, this is officially my first NCIS story that I have ever written. It was inspired by the Tale of the Three Brothers, which came from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Please tell me what you think of this via reviews. They encourage and inspire me to write more.)


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